A Scandal in 221B
by SuperwholockAfterDark
Summary: Irene wants Sherlock to have an experience he'll never forget. MATURE CONTENT. One-shot.


Sherlock Holmes sat wrist and ankle-cuffed to a chair in the living room of apartment 221B. Dominatrix Irene Adler had gotten into his flat. _Windows are intact, the door's lock is untouched. She must have come in with a key. There are only a small amount of keys to this apartment, one of which I possess. I, obviously, didn't let her in. John has a key, but he wouldn't let The Woman in or lose his keys. The only other key belongs to... Mrs. Hudson,_ Sherlock sighed deeply, _Dammit. That silly old women let Irene into our flat. Why on earth would she-_

The click of high heels, stilettos to be exact, interrupted Sherlock's thoughts as the volume of clicking grew louder: closer. Irene Adler appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but the black heels and a satisfied smile._ 32-24-34,_ Sherlock remembered.

"Well, hello Mr. Holmes," she purred.

"Hello," Sherlock answered curtly making sure he maintained eye contact.

"Do you know why I'm here, Mr. Holmes?"

"Judging from your... appearance, you seem to be here on some sort of dominatrix sexual escapade."

She laughed, "You amuse me Sherlock. I suppose that a 'sexual escapade' might be one way to put what I want to do to you"

She walked closer, and her heels resumed clicking. Sherlock averted his eyes from the sultry movements of her petite body. She was on the prowl for her prey. He sat very still in the chair. He was not ashamed that she'd managed to cuff him down._ She's stronger than she looks, but that's a common quality for a dominatrix_, Sherlock assessed. He broke eye contact with her and studied her vulva._ Her vaginal area is wetter than what is normal for a woman,_ He looked at her breasts, _Her nipples are growing taut and hard. Basic signs of a woman's arousal._

She wasn't just any woman; she was Irene Adler, and she wanted him. What The Woman wants, she gets. Irene stood right in front of him, unafraid of showing off her body.

"Have you ever climaxed, Mr. Holmes?"

"Excuse me?" Sherlock was caught off guard by the question.

"Have you ever achieved orgasm? I know you've never been with a woman, obviously, but I'm wondering if you've had any sexual experience at all. Masturbation, for example?" She stared him down, waiting for a reply.

"I don't believed I have had such experiences," He stated, almost embarrassed.

She beamed, "Then this will be a lot of fun."

She bent down on her knees in front of his chair, and used her slender fingers to unzip his pants. After his pants were removed, only a thin layer of boxer- brief cloth separated them. She put her hand over his package and rubbed it slowly as she seductively bit her red lipstick-covered bottom lip. At first his body showed no reaction to her stimulation, but after a few minutes it succumbed.

He started getting hard. _Sherlock, come on. Mind over matter. Mind over... Oh, that feels... good,_ Sherlock thought, _Damn._

Irene made eye contact as she pulled off his underwear. His length stood at attention, and it was a length to behold. It was maybe even 9 inches at this point.

"Are you ready Mr. Holmes?"

He made no reply as he was trying to suppress his urge to groan.

She scratched his cheek with her nails, "I asked you a question, darling. Play nice with me and I play nice with you. So, are you ready Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes."

"Good boy," Irene said, ruffling his dark hair.

She kissed his tip and started flicking her tongue over it. Sherlock had never felt such pleasure in his life. Her plump lips moving over his hard cock. Her wild, wet, voluptuous tongue swirling over it unbearingly slow. Sherlock let out a low animalistic groan of pure ecstasy.

"I see you're enjoying this, Mr. Homes," She said pleased.

She used her porcelain white teeth to gently bite and pull at the skin of his glorious package. Irene decided to stop teasing him, she began to suck on the first 3 inches of his member like a popsicle. Briskly bobbing her head up and down on a little bit on his length. She brought her hands up and placed her fingers on his testicles. She began a nontraditional massage as she rubbed both balls slowly in circles, while still sucking his member.

"Oh," Sherlock closed his eyes hard as the pleasure consumed him.

Irene, after hearing his low growl, took his whole length in her mouth. She wrapped her lips around his member and took it all. Irene deep-throated him with a passion. She seemed to have no gag reflex. Sherlock curled his toes, bracing himself for his release. He had never experienced anything like this, but he could feel that his climax was near.

She continued to drive him mad while working his testicles and sucking on his length. She felt his cock throbbing even harder in his throat: he was about to come. She sucked on it wildly, like an animal, for his last few moments of rising action.

He bucked his hips upward in mini-thrusts and spasms. Sherlock couldn't hold on any longer. His mind went suddenly blank, and in a moment of sheer bliss he released himself. He emptied into her beautiful mouth. She let it trickle down her throat and swallowed it like a champion. Her mouth pulled away from her adult-style lollipop and smiled proudly. She had been the administrator of his first orgasm.

The great Sherlock Holmes was sitting, cuffed to a chair, breathing heavily and trying to compose himself.

"Was that to your satisfaction?" She asked coyly.

"Well, I suppose it was to my _body's_ satisfaction, as you witnessed," He replied matter-of-factually.

"You can stop pretending that you're not a lustful being, Mr. Holmes. I know you have urges, you just have more self control than the average man. So you can stop putting up your little 'I'm above having sex' front. You loved it," She scorched him with her eyes, " I know you did."

His neck grew hot with embarrassment and frustration. He was, clearly, done discussing this subject.

She smirked, "Just keep lying to yourself then. When you're ready to admit that you want me; you know where to find me."

Irene Adler turned around and walked towards the door. She grabbed her black trench-coat off the coat hanger and tied its belt around her waist. She set the handcuffs' keys, that were still binding Sherlock to his chair, down onto a side table.

"How am I supposed to get out?" Sherlock inquired.

"You will later, when John comes home. It'll be an interesting surprise," Irene gave him a wink and smile, "You'll have some explaining to do," She then turned, opened the door, and exited the flat with a powerful strut and swing of the hips.


End file.
